


i wanna know if you’ll be my girl

by binchmarner, PeaceSign_MiddleFinger



Series: Be My Girl [1]
Category: Men’s Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming In Pants, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Getting Together, Kink Exploration, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut, Under-negotiated Kink, using songs as flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceSign_MiddleFinger/pseuds/PeaceSign_MiddleFinger
Summary: Team Canada wins World Juniors, and their hockey song brings something about Cale to light. Conor is only too happy to indulge.
Relationships: Cale Makar/Conor Timmins
Series: Be My Girl [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564219
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	i wanna know if you’ll be my girl

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to chuck for looking this over! You’re the real one!!!
> 
> Title of the story comes from Delbert McClinton’s [hey baby](%E2%80%9Cnofollow%E2%80%9D).

They win.

Team Canada wins 3-1 against Sweden, and all Cale can hear is their goal song. Conor crashes into him, screaming his name. “We _fucking_ did it!” he yells, wrapping his arms around Cale and picking him up.

Cale laughs, wraps his arms around Conor and lets himself be spun around. Adrenaline courses through him as he looks around at his team, his brothers. He has half a mind to kiss Conor on the ice because he’s so _happy_, but he doesn’t think that would go over well.

That doesn’t stop him from taking Conor by the jersey and kissing him the moment they step into the locker room though. It’s sloppy and messy and their teeth keep clicking because they’re smiling so widely, but Cale wouldn’t have anything else.

The locker room is chaos, all the boys yelling and hanging off of each other, and everything is already covered in a layer of beer and Gatorade and sweat. There’s nowhere else Cale would rather be. 

He can’t tell who starts it, but someone yells _“heyyyyyyyyy”,_ and then they’re all joining in. _“Hey baby, hoo hah! I wanna kno-o-o-o-o-owwwwww if you’ll be my girl!”_

Conor is pressed up behind him, so Cale can feel the vibrations of his voice as he sings. The chorus starts up again, and this time, Conor lowers his voice and sings directly into Cale’s ear before sucking a mark on his neck. 

Cale is suddenly very grateful that he’s still half in his gear, because the rest of the locker room doesn’t need to see him suddenly sporting a boner from his teammate and occasional fuck-buddy singing their goal song at him like it’s some sort of sexy R&B song. 

“Con,” Cale says, trying and failing to keep his voice from becoming whiny. He knows Conor can see his flush on his cheeks travel down his neck.

“Come on, Cale. You’d be really pretty as my girlfriend.” Cale can feel Conor grin against his skin. “Wanna be my girl?”

Cale pulls out of Conor’s arms easily and grabs a Gatorate. But just as he’s opening it to take a sip, Conor smirks. “I’d like to see your pretty red lips wrapped around something else, baby girl.”

Cale can’t suppress a shudder as he looks at Conor wide-eyed. Conor clearly notices, because Cale watches his eyes go dark. 

“You like that, baby? You want me to call you pretty, treat you like my best girl?” 

Cale whimpers at that, hoping the sound gets lost in the revelry happening around him. “Con,” he starts again, but he doesn’t know how to finish. Doesn’t know how to ask Conor to leave with him right now, to take him back to the hotel and wreck him. Conor seems to know what he means though.

“Gonna take such good care of you when we get back to the room, baby girl. Get you all wet and begging for me, then fuck you so good.” Conor smirks.

Cale leans forward and kisses Conor so he doesn’t do something like get on his knees for him in front of the entire team. Conor hums, practically holding Cale up through the kiss. 

“Gotta get undressed for me, baby girl,” Conor says against Cale’s lips. Cale makes a punched out noise, shaking his head.

“Not going to be able to if you keep calling me that,” Cale says, his eyes squeezed shut tight. 

Conor chuckles. “You can do it. I’ll let them know we’re leaving, that you’re sick.”

“They’re not going to believe that.” Cale rolls his eyes, his cheeks a blotchy red.

“I can definitely tell them I need to take care of my girlfriend, that she’s begging to get on her knees for me, if you’d rather have that.” Conor smirks as Cale’s breath hitches. Everything in his body is begging for Conor to continue, to tease, however hard Cale may be. 

“Fuck, Conor,” Cale whines.

Conor leans in, and Cale knows whatever he’s going to say is going to be it. He’ll just be dead in the ground, a puddle on the floor. “Think about it, baby. Already got on a garter belt. I should just get you some panties for you to wear for me. Make you wet and have you come in them.”

“Please,” he begs.

“You need to change before we can leave, sweetheart. We can shower at the hotel, but people are going to have some questions if you try to leave still in half your pads.”

“Con,” Cale whines. “I can’t get changed if you keep teasing me.” He gives Conor a look. 

“Fine.I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes, baby girl. Come find me when you’re ready.” Conor shoots him a wink and then moves across the room to throw himself onto Dante, crowing about gold medals. 

Cale sinks down in his locker and takes a series of deep breaths. He tries to think of as many unsexy things as he can to will his dick back down enough that he can get dressed. He takes a swig of the Gatorade he grabbed, watching his team celebrate. 

It’s kind of crazy to think that it’s all over now, that he won’t play with this group ever again, that he might not play with _any_ of them ever again. Sure, he and Conor got drafted by the Avalanche, but there’s no guarantee that they’ll both end up making the team, or that one of them won’t get traded away before they ever make the show. 

That’s a sobering enough thought to quash the arousal that had been thrumming through his veins. He strips out of his Under Armour––he really hopes Conor meant it when he said they could shower at the hotel, because really, it needs to happen––and throws on sweats. 

He jumps into the conversation with Conor and Max, while Max is yelling something about “let’s get fucking _wasted_,” and Cale tugs on Conor’s hand.

“We’re gonna bow out for the night. Maybe catch up with you later,” Conor says, smiling as innocent as he can. “Cale and I have some of our own… celebrations to attend to.”

“Conor!” Cale says, his cheeks flushing, but he can’t say anything because it’s not like Conor’s wrong, exactly.

Conor grabs his hand and starts walking towards the door. Mikey yells “get some” at them as they leave, which gets some yelling from the boys, but no one tries to stop them. 

The Uber Conor called arrives just a minute after they make it out of the building. Cale climbs into the back seat and Conor slides in next to them. They’re quiet as they ride through the streets of Buffalo. Conor has one hand on Cale’s thigh, fingers teasing along the sensitive skin at the inside of his leg, and Cale spends the drive trying not to make any noises that will give them away. Conor’s pinky is tucked up in the crease of his hip by the time they make it to the hotel, fingers _so close_ to Cale’s dick, but not touching and Cale has never been so glad to see a hotel in his life.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Cale says, breathless as they run to the elevator. Conor smirks, leveling Cale with a look. Cale raises an eyebrow. “I’m serious. Pulling that shit in the locker room?”

“Baby girl,” Conor says, resting his hands on Cale’s hips and pulling him close. “All I wanted to do was give you a little taste of what you’re going to get tonight.”

“I should be celebrating you, _Daddy_. Game winning assist?” Cale smirks, cocking his head to the side and looking up at Conor through his lashes. “Come on, that was hot.”

“Not as hot as you looked after the game, all pink and flushed and begging for it. Wanted to strip you down to just the garters and bend you over in your stall and fuck you until you couldn’t speak.”

Cale lets out a whimper at that, eyes the elevator door. This feels like the longest elevator ride of his life, and he’s half considering just saying _fuck it_ and jumping Conor now, consequences be damned, but thankfully, the elevator dings and the doors slide open at their floor. He rushes out and down the hall, digging in his pocket for his keycard, Conor close behind. 

He jams the card into the door, but the light blinks red at him. He tries again with the same result, and then Conor’s hand is on his. 

“You’ve got it backwards, baby girl. Someone’s eager, isn’t she?”

And that’s just not fair. “Daddy,” Cale whines, and he hears Conor’s sharp breath. The card is snatched from his hand and deftly turned around, and then the door is open and he’s inside and pinned against the wall, Conor’s mouth hot and hungry on his. Conor slots his thigh in between Cale’s legs, smirking when Cale grinds down against him with fervor. 

“Yeah, baby girl?” Conor smirks, grinning like the cat that got the cream when Cale’s hips stutter.

“I don’t see how you calling me baby girl is fair… you can’t––”

“I can definitely stop,” Conor raises an eyebrow, chuckling when Cale whines.

“C’mon, don’t––”

“Don’t what? Don’t stop?” Conor continues, relentless.

“Fuck, Daddy, more,” Cale gasps out, grinding against Conor’s leg more aggressively. 

“Does that feel good, baby girl? Rubbing your clit on my leg?” 

Cale’s heart skips a beat. He looks up at Conor, whose eyes have gone wide. “I mean––” Conor backtracks wildly, and Cale isn’t having any of that.

“Feels so good,” Cale says, looking up at him through his lashes in a way he knows absolutely wrecks Conor. “You’re making me so wet, Daddy, need you.” 

Cale can feel the tension bleed out of Conor as he wraps his hands around Cale’s hips. “Yeah, baby girl?” he says, voice low in Cale’s ear.

Cale moans, high and breathy. “Fuck, Daddy, not gonna last…”

“Kind of the point, kitten,” Conor says, kissing over the shell of his ear. “Gonna come all over my thigh, come all over your pretty panties?” 

“Uh huh,” Cale nods, biting Conor’s collarbone. Conor’s dirty talk is making everything happen so incredibly fast. God, he feels like an inexperienced teenager, but it feels so _good_, listening to Conor talk dirty time and time again. “Fuck, can I?” he begs.

“Wanna eat you out after, get you even wetter than you already are. Come on, come for Daddy,” Conor says, chuckling when Cale whines and comes hard against Conor’s leg. 

Cale’s legs are shaky and he’s incredibly glad that Conor is holding him up, because he’s fairly certain that falling over would ruin the mood, but he can’t remember the last time he came that hard. He’s certainly never come like that without anyone touching him. 

Conor noses along Cale’s jaw, sucking another mark under his ear. “So hot when you come for me, gorgeous.” 

He reaches down to grab Cale’s thighs and lifts, and Cale wraps his legs around Conor’s waist. Conor walks them over to the bed and lays him down, settling on top of him. “Can I clean you up with my tongue, baby girl?” 

Cale nods and then hides his face in the pillows. Everything is so much, and it’s so good, but he kind of can’t handle the idea of seeing Conor right now.

“I’m gonna undress you, okay?” Conor asks, and Cale nods, letting his ruined boxers and sweats come off easily. Cale’s almost completely calmed down by the time both of them are fully naked, until he hears Conor again after a moment of silence.

“I forgot what I was going to do baby. Could you remind me?” he asks, and Cale’s cheeks flush dark, blush travelling down his chest. 

“You were going to clean me up,” Cale says, soft and half muffled in the pillow. Conor hums. 

“Where, baby, with what?” Conor says. “You can tell me.”

“Fuck,” Cale whines. “Fuck, I want you to eat me out.”

“Where?” Conor says, relentless. “Where do you want my mouth?”

“Fuck, I want your mouth on my pussy,” Cale’s face is so, so red but Conor groans and nips at Cale’s inner thigh.

“Good girl,” Conor praises, voice warm and fond. He licks gently over Cale’s soft dick, and Cale shudders, oversensitive. Cale whines and Conor runs a hand soothingly over his thigh. “Is your clit still too sensitive, baby? Guess I’ll just play with your hole for a bit then, wait until you’re ready for me.”

Conor hooks one of Cale’s legs over his shoulder and licks over his hole. Cale grabs the sheets and buries his face in the pillow again. It’s so good, the way Conor licks into him. Conor alternates between working the tip of his tongue into Cale’s hole and sucking at his rim. He can feel spit dripping down his crack and Conor’s stubble is rubbing the insides of his thighs raw and it’s everything Cale can do to not grind against Conor’s face. 

He feels a finger slowly press inside and groans. 

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” Conor says reverently. 

Might as well go for broke, if they’re really doing this.

“Just for you, Daddy,” Cale stutters out, grinding back on his finger. “So wet for you, god, I need _more, please!_”

“So needy too,” Conor says lightly, as if he’s not blowing Cale’s mind right now, absolutely ruining him for porn or anybody else. “Kinda slutty.”

Cale nods. “More, _please,_ fuck, I need your mouth,” he begs. His stomach turns as he feels Conor chuckle against him.

“Want my mouth on your pussy? My fingers on your clit? You gotta ask, baby.” Conor hums. 

“Please, I need it, all of it,” Cale babbles. “Your mouth, your fingers, your cock.”

Conor makes a punched out noise. “Fuck, yeah, okay, baby girl, you can have it all, just give me a minute.” 

Conor pulls back and Cale whines at the loss of contact. “Just gotta get condoms and lube, sweetheart.” 

They’ve been fooling around during the tournament long enough that everything is just in the drawer of the side table, so Conor is back between Cale’s legs in almost no time, fingers slick with lube. “Want me to suck your clit while I finger you?” 

Cale feels his cheeks heat as his dick twitches. “Please.” He feels Conor press a finger against his hole. Cale whines, fucking back against it as Conor presses in.

“Patience, kitten.” Cale hears Conor say. Conor wraps his mouth around the head of Cale’s dick and he gasps. Conor’s tongue swipes over the slit and Cale’s hips jump off the bed

“Sorry, sorry.” Cale covers his face. 

Conor pushes Cale’s hips down against the bed gently with his free hand––which is… a _lot_ to think about later, thank you very much, future Cale–– and sucks down a little further.

“Can’t, can’t, it’s too good,” Cale begs.

Conor keeps sucking gently at Cale’s dick as he eases a second finger in and Cale reaches up and back to grab helplessly at the headboard, needing something to ground him. “Conor, Con, _Daddy, please_,” Cale’s voice cracks. “Too much, ‘m not gonna last.”

“Just want you to feel good, baby girl,” Conor says, pulling off Cale’s dick. 

“But I want to come on your dick,” Cale whines, and Conor turns a satisfying shade of pink beneath his dark stubble. Cale can’t help but love the smug feeling that he gets in his chest when he sees Conor’s eyes darken.

“Good girl, asking for what you want. I’ve got you.” Conor bites at the inside of Cale’s thighs like he can’t stand not doing something with his mouth and goes back to fingering Cale. 

Cale gasps and fucks himself back on Conor’s fingers, groaning when Conor presses in a third finger. “Rub your clit for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I can,” Cale says, gripping his cock and starting to jerk it. 

“No, baby, c’mon. Rub your clit for me.”

Cale hums, rubbing his thumb over the head of his dick, almost sobbing when Conor crooks his fingers and presses against his prostate. 

“I’ll be good, please, just fuck me, Daddy,” Cale begs, rubbing the head of his dick faster. 

“I want to make sure it’s good for you, baby girl. Be patient for me.” Conor presses against Cale’s prostate again and precome drips out onto Cale’s thumb as he rubs faster. 

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” Cale says, desperate. 

_Finally_, Conor pulls his fingers free and snags the condom from next to him on the bed and rolls it on. He squeezes lube onto his fingers and slicks up his dick, then leans over Cale to line up. Cale whimpers as the blunt head of Conor’s dick presses into him, and Conor groans. 

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy is so tight, you feel so good.” 

Cale clenches around Conor as his hips are flush with Cale’s ass, adjusting to him. “Your cock is so big, it’s splitting me in half,” he moans, grinding against Conor. “Move, please.”

“God, you’re incredible,” Conor says, pulling out and thrusting back in. Cale moans loudly, not even bothering to think about their teammates on the floor around them. 

“Daddy, _please!_” Cale shouts. 

It doesn’t take long to find a rhythm, easy from the two weeks they’ve spent together. Conor thrusts hard, and it almost feels like he’s purposefully missing Cale’s prostate. Cale hitches his leg up higher on Conor and suddenly it feels _incredible._

“I’ve got you, baby girl. Let Daddy take care of you,” he says, moving his hand so he can rub at Cale’s cock. “Why don’t you play with your tits for me, baby, huh?”

Cale is sure his cheeks are bright red, but he slides his hand up and pinches at a nipple. Conor manages to nail his prostate as he squeezes and his entire body lights up. He keeps playing with it, rolling it between his fingers as Conor fucks into him, cock pressing into Cale’s prostate with every thrust. It doesn’t take long before he can feel his orgasm building. He’s _so close_ and if Conor would just jerk him off properly instead of rubbing at the head of his dick, he would come. He says as much, and Conor smirks at him. 

“You can come like this, baby girl. I know you can. Come on, you can do it. You can come from Daddy fucking you hard and rubbing your clit. Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” Conor keeps talking, and Cale is right on the edge, so ready to come. 

Conor gives a particularly sharp thrust as he rubs over Cale’s dick and Cale is coming so hard he sees stars. Conor strokes him through it, praising him as Cale gasps and gasps for breath.

“Come on, come in me,” Cale grabs at Conor’s forearm. “I want your come, Daddy.”

“Oh my god,” Conor says, thrusting hard a handful more times before coming hard, filling the condom. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” Cale breathes out when Conor comes down. “That was…”

“Good?” Conor asks, pushing the hair out of Cale’s face. “Was I too much?” 

“No! No,” Cale says, leaning up to kiss Conor deep. “You were… I was… that was awesome.”

Conor grins at him. “I’m glad.” 

He pulls out and ties off the condom, disappearing into the bathroom to throw it away and grab a washcloth. His hands are gentle as he wipes the mess off of Cale’s stomach and from between his legs, then tosses it back towards the bathroom and climbs back into bed. 

Cale curls up next to Conor, head on his chest and Conor wraps an arm around him. Conor is humming quietly to himself, and Cale can’t help but giggle when he recognizes it as _“Hey Baby.”_

“Is that our song now?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Conor’s chin. 

“I think it has to be,” Conor replies, and then softly sings. “_Hey baby, I wanna know if you’ll be my girl_.” 

He looks at Cale for a minute, eyes gone soft. “But actually, for real. Do you want to be my girl?” 

Cale smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. “For real? I would love to.” 

“Yeah?” Conor grins, his eyes bright, and Cale doesn’t exactly know how Conor could think he’d say anything other than _yes_. “Good, then.”

“Good.”


End file.
